Remus's Madness
by Mush's Skittles
Summary: Sirius isn't REALLY gone. Not to Lupin. Sirius is everywhere.


Oh, I don't know what this is. I just… wrote it. In my journal one night. It started out looking at a fan art by Fiendling, you may know her, she's amazing. It evolved into this whole thing…. Alright, I'm not going to justify it any longer, just let me know what ya think.

Remus's Madness

By Mush's Skittles

Disclaimer: Not mine, some is JK Rowling's, some is Fiendling's

Remus Lupin is laying in his bed as I often have when the world closes in. He's on his stomach, pillow clenched under his head, staring off into nowhere, feeling a savage satisfaction at the tears burning down his cheeks and creating a damp spot on the pillow. He doesn't blink. He craves the cleansing tears, he craves their salty pain on his parched eyes, the discomfort they cause, drying and leaving stinging salt on his cheeks. He _wants_ to feel dirty, laying on a sweat and tear soaked pillow. Anything to ease the pain that now burns in the hole in his chest where Sirius used to be.

He thinks, "I will never see you again. Never. Again." He squeezes his eyes shut as pain washes over him like an acid wave that he just has to wait out. He screams, silently, to no one and anyone," But I LOVE YOU!" He sobs and his desperate cries are audible yet unheard. "I love you! How can you leave me? I LOVE YOU!" He had felt, previously, that if he willed it hard enough, if he loved Sirius enough, nothing could happen to him. He had loved him, hadn't he? Hadn't he kissed him goodnight? Hadn't he held that shaking hand, the trembling body? The feverish, nightmare plagued eyes had sought and found comfort in Remus's unconditional gaze.

It all happened too quick. He couldn't keep everything under control. He couldn't will Sirius safe, couldn't will him alive.

And he had had to hold Harry. Harry, who had lost as much as Remus had. Harry, whose loved ones were slipping from his life like so many rain drops off a leaf.

Sirius is standing next to the bed. Sirius is looking down at him, saddened to see Remus in anguish. He's pained because he's totally helpless—Even the hand on Remus's shoulder is transparent. Immaterial. There only in theory. Sirius is all cause and no effect. And he thinks, "If only I could hold you, it would be alright. I could fix this pain. I'm sorry. I didn't leave you on purpose. I didn't abandon you, not really. I fought to stay near you, fought to the last second and I'm completely HELPLESS, USELESS. Now I'm not even here for you, love, even more useless than I was in life. I am doomed to forever watch and do nothing."

Sirius's pillow still seemed warm, seemed like he was still laying there, or had just been. Perhaps he just got up to pee or get a glass of water. He'll be back in bed in a moment, and it won't be so empty and cold.

Remus would play out this fantasy every night, and every night he'd fall asleep peacefully waiting for Sirius to return. He'd wake up every morning figuring that Sirius had simply risen earlier and was in the attic feeding Buckbeak or reading a book over coffee in the kitchen.

Somewhere in his mind, Remus knew Sirius wasn't really there. He wondered if he was losing his mind, occasionally, but decided that if he were, he wouldn't know. So, in he privacy of his imagination, Sirius was simply somewhere else, and would be back soon. Unfortunately, Remus always seemed to have to leave before Sirius returned. Funny, Remus thought one day, how one could live in the same house as someone else and never see them.

He mentally composed notes:

Padfoot,

I waited for you to come down for a while, but I had to go—I left you some breakfast on the stove, clean up when you're done please. I love you.

Moony

When Remus returned to find the kitchen a mess, he entertained himself by being privately annoyed with Sirius for not cleaning up. He comforted himself, telling himself that he won't have gone mad until he started actually writing things down for Sirius.

He chuckled softly as he turned down the covers on the neatly made bed, and climbed in that night. _If Sirius were here, he_ told himself, _this bed would be more of a den than a bed. Covers in every direction, honestly, sometimes I think Sirius was more dog than man._ Remus laughed at his thoughts, but it was bittersweet. Remus knew what it was like to feel more dog than man, and knew Sirius had been more of a man than anyone he knew, even in dog form.

Several weeks passed, in which Remus Lupin lived a semi-normal life. He had been caught by several acquaintances, including Albus Dumbledore, Molly Weasley, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody staring off into space, completely lost in his thoughts. Most of his friends simply laid a hand on his shoulder, gave a weak smile, and looked away sadly. Harry, however, stared into Remus's eyes. The clear green of Lily Potter's eyes glared into Remus, and he felt, looking into those eyes that had lost so much, that he was silly to be acting so wounded. He always thought to hug Harry at these moments, but all he could manage was to stare back, until the boy's eyes (full of questions Remus could not answer, as he was asking them all himself) grew glassy. Harry would look away then and ask about Buckbeak or Dumbledore, or the Order, and life would sputter a bit, but pick up and move on.

Remus's potion to quell his vicious bouts as a werewolf always left him feeling a bit queasy and drained on the morning after, when he woke up curled in his study as a human. It felt rather like he'd had a hard night of drinking, and for some reason this time was the worst he had ever felt. He woke at dawn to the chirping of birds outside of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, sounding to him like the saw orchestras one might employ for a deathday party. He staggered up the stairs and into the bedroom but when he collapsed on the bed he didn't fall asleep, he simply stared at the ceiling. Tears welled up in his eyes, salty and hot, for the first time in maybe a month. Remus tried to stop them at first, but then, feeling guilty for letting the grief get to him yet again, he let them flow. As they dripped down his temples into his ears, his nose began to run. Remus laid there, letting it all bleed out of him. Some time in midmorning he fell back asleep.

When he woke up it was late afternoon, and the sun was slanting in the window and coloring the room saffron. His stomach gave forth an empty noise so he rolled over, and got up blearily from the bed. His face was caked with tears and snot, and catching a glance of himself in the mirror near the door, he groaned.

In the bathroom, he splashed cold water on his face. It woke him up a bit, and he decided to go and make himself a proper dinner. Propriety always made him feel better when he was falling apart.

Sitting at that lonely dinner, he heard footsteps come in the front door, creak up the stairs to the bedroom, and then quiet. He knew the loping, confident gait of Sirius better than he knew his own face, and wondered why he hadn't come in to say hello. He found himself wandering through the house, calling for Sirius. It was Sirius's house, after all. And it _felt_ like Sirius was home. Where had he got to?

The tears didn't fall until he got to the empty bedroom. Though he had slept nearly all day, Remus curled himself into the covers on his and Sirius's bed, and slept until morning.

"I _am_ losing it," Remus told Buckbeak over breakfast the next day, the day before he left.

He packed a few things on and off that day. Sometimes he thought to himself, _Am__ I actually going to run away? Run away, after one bad night?_ But then he remembered _all_ of the bad nights, the wasted days, the tears, and that hole in his chest that didn't feel like it was healing.

He wrote, in his best quill,

Padfoot,

I can't stand living with you anymore. You're here, but you're not, and I can't get it through my thick skull that you're gone for good. If you ever need me, I trust you'll be able to find me. I love you.

Moony

and left it on the kitchen table.

And the next night, after one last day of private wars and deliberations, he coaxed Buckbeak from the attic, lead him into the back garden, and took off into the sky. It was a warm summer night and though he felt slightly uncomfortable on the back of the flapping beast, Lupin almost enjoyed the rush of fresh, summer air. He didn't look back on the city below him, he simply looked straight ahead into the southern sky. The hippogriff seemed to know where to go, so Remus didn't bother guiding him. After several minutes, when London was simply a lighter part of the horizon behind him, Remus found himself wondering if the tears on his cheeks were from the wind or from the life and love he was forcing himself to leave behind.


End file.
